


Emotionally Stunted

by KetamineKendra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Universe, Coffee Shop-AU, College AU, Drinking, Gen, M/M, Self-Harm, a little fluff, discomfort ensues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:51:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KetamineKendra/pseuds/KetamineKendra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't like to think about it. <br/>Cas doesn't know about it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Won't suck, promise. Started as a one-shot. Got completely out of hand. Will be broken into segments, not sure how many yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean walked into Joe’s, the coffee shop attached to the college campus. He was looking at his phone, shooting a text to his younger brother Sammy. Over his leather clad shoulder was a messenger bag with a few books. He would only need the books for this semester, after which he could transfer into the automotive program and have hands-on classes. He had to pass all of these classes first, though, and that meant books and homework. 

There were multiple times when he had seen people trip or walk into something or whatever when they were texting and walking, but somehow he thought that he was immune to those things. 

Obviously, he was wrong.

Either he walked into someone, or someone walked into him. He could not be sure which, as his eyes had been glued to his phone. What he was sure of was that he was suddenly very, very warm. He looked down at himself. A previously pale grey tee shirt was now covered in a pale brown liquid that, if he was honest, smelled delicious. He felt wetness on his face and licked his lip, tasting caramel and coffee. “Hm. I guess the coffee is good here.” 

“I am so sorry.” The voice was low and a little rough, but sounded sincere. Dean looked at the kid in front of him. He was wearing a black tee shirt and black jeans, under an emerald green apron with the word Joe’s across the chest in cursive. His blue eyes were wide. For a second, he stood there just staring in disbelief. 

“Can I get a towel?” Dean figured maybe he was so horrified that he needed a reminder of what he should do. 

The kid yelped and ran off to the kitchen, dodging patrons and other baristas with considerably more dexterity than he would have expected after being coated with coffee by the kid. Dean stuck his phone in his pocket and removed the leather jacket. Thankfully, that would be much easier to clean of coffee than his shirt. 

“I really am sorry. I guess I was distracted.” The kid was back, two towels in his hands. One was wet, the other dry. 

“It’s okay. No biggie.” He smiled, because the kid was obviously nervous as hell. “Seriously, dude, it’s not a big deal. I’ll just set my stuff over there and go out to my car. I have another shirt.” 

The kid handed him the dry cloth and then started cleaning the floor with the wet one, his messy brown hair messed up as if he had run his hands through it. For some reason, the kid looked familiar. 

After drying off his jacket, Dean set down his messenger bag and jacket, and then made a quick dash to his car. Outside, it was a little chilly, the reason he had worn the jacket in the first place. His skin puckered in goose bumps before he managed to pull off the coffee soaked shirt and pull on a new one, slightly wrinkled.

He entered the shop again, finding the kid in front of his stuff. “I did not want anyone to take your things while you were out.” The dude had an odd way of talking, Dean thought, like he spoke too properly. 

“Uh, thanks.” 

“Also, I was told to offer you a free drink. What would you like?” He was still nervous. He was thin, not like he was skinny, but like he did not over indulge, or work out like crazy. Maybe he was that kid in high school that always got picked on and thought Dean would do so now. The thought was one Dean was used to. People looked at him and assumed that he was a tough guy that beat on the kids smaller than him. He would never do that, though. He only hurt those that needed it. 

“Just a plain black coffee, I guess.” Dean was not one for fancy drinks with names he could barely pronounce. The kid gave him a weird look, but left. 

Dean got out his homework, history. He was reading about the American Civil War, something he had thought he already knew about. College classes went into much deeper detail than high school, though, apparently. He was struggling over the names of general’s and battle’s when a long fingered hand deposited a white mug in front of him. “What are you studying?” The kid from earlier was back, looking at the book with his head tilted to the side to see the words better. 

“Civil war.” The kid’s eyebrows lowered, thinking he supposed. He looked smart, so it wasn’t trying to place the name. 

“You’re wrong.” The same long fingers came into view, pointing at his notes. 

Dean scrunched his brows together and looked at him. “What? It says right here!” He pointed to the book. When the kid moved to stand behind Dean, Dean just rolled his eyes. He knew how to read. 

“No, right there it says that the Battle of Big Bethel was a Confederate victory, not the Battle of Boonville.” Dean looked closer and found that he had skipped a line. After he corrected his notes, he looked at the kid appraisingly. 

“You gonna be a teacher?” 

“Yes, actually. History, too.” The kid’s eyes were still scanning his papers, nodding every now and then. 

“Why don’t you make me your first student? I’m hopeless at history.” He smiled his most charming smile. He knew it could be quite devastating. 

“Why?” The kid didn’t fall for it.

“Because you’re good at it.” Dean shrugged then smiled again. “And because you spilled coffee on me.” 

The kid looked apologetic, and suddenly Dean felt like calling him the kid was getting a bit annoying, even if it was only in his head. “What’s your name?” 

The kid made a face before he answered. “Castiel Novak.” 

“The hell kind of a name is that?” Dean was bewildered. People still named their kids shit like that?

“It’s the name of an angel. Of Thursday’s, specifically.” He shrugged and sat down across from Dean. The rush was apparently over, because only one other patron was in the shop. 

“Dean Winchester. Now, teach me, oh great Angel of Thursdays.” 

*

For about a week, Castiel had been enrolled in a wellness class. He had thought that he would enjoy spending time with people that were not all history-minded. He had quickly decided that while he enjoyed running, he was not one for lifting weights and spending hours a day in a sweaty, awful smelling room. Instead, he dropped the class and decided he was satisfied with his history class friends. 

When he found that he had spilled coffee all over the man he had stood next to for that week in class, he felt even worse. Everyone probably thought he had quit because he was weak, but that was not the case. He truly had not cared what their opinions might have been, until he was back in front of one of them. He spent a moment agonizing over it before he decided he just did not care. 

This Dean was attractive, but he was obviously not interested in the slightest. That suited Castiel just fine, because he already had a lover. For some reason, he found himself agreeing to tutor Dean, sitting in front of him and going over the battles and victories with him. He got up a few times to serve customers and clean. When it was quiet, he had Dean just talk to him across the shop. He was the only barista for a period of two hours, but it was normal. After four o clock, another barista came in. Only one more hour and he could start his own homework. 

Dean was smart, but seemed to think differently. He was also funny and easily distracted. 

The end of Castiel’s shift found him removing his apron and sitting at Dean’s table again. “I have to do my own homework.” 

Dean smiled and nodded. “That’s alright. You helped a lot. I might actually survive this class.” He chuckled. “Guess Thursday is my lucky day, eh, Angel of Thursdays?” 

Castiel chuckled, even if he had heard all sorts of jokes about his name. “Apparently. If you need any more help, I am here on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s and Fridays. Not until four on Friday’s, though.” 

The smile Dean bestowed on him was quite attractive, and Cas immediately pictured John’s face. This could get sticky, he thought. “I will probably take you up on that offer.”

*

Dean managed to pass the first and second test in his history class quite easily. He thought that he was in the clear until he was pulled aside in his English class. Apparently, his writing wasn’t up to snuff and he would be ‘well advised to improve if he wished to continue with his college career.’ Dean sneered as he thought of it, but he had his laptop in his messenger bag. 

Working on his homework at the coffee shop seemed to help. He sat down at the same table he always used, and Castiel dropped off a large mug of black coffee for him. He did it with a smile, and Dean smiled back. He must have had indigestion, because his stomach felt funny. Or maybe he was hungry. He knew they served pie here, maybe he should get some. 

Dean went to the register and ordered a piece. When Castiel handed him the white plate that was dwarfed by a large piece of cherry pie, he set it down on the counter. He gave a tentative smile. “You don’t happen to also want to be an English teacher, do you?”   
Castiel dropped his shoulders and then gave a small smile. “No, I have no plans to dual-major. I am, however, a decent English student. What are you writing?” 

*  
The semester passed and a friendship grew between Castiel and Dean. It started out as studying together, but eventually, Dean stopped bringing his homework. He said he was doing much better in his classes, but Castiel still demanded that he come to him if he started doing poorly again. 

Dean had agreed.

Finally, winter break rolled around and Dean seemed to be relieved. He told Castiel that he would be going home to see his father and little brother. Castiel wished him luck. He seemed to genuinely enjoy his younger brother’s presence. Castiel, on the other hand, was sure that his older brother only barely tolerated him. 

*

He no longer needed help passing his classes, now that he had succeeded in surviving that semester. Seeing his family had calmed him. Or, seeing Sammy had calmed him. His father, though…

Dean always found himself thinking of that thing he had promised himself he would never think of again. He thought of a specific person in a way that he shouldn’t, as well. Like his father brought out all the things he was insecure about and refused to deal with. 

He sat with his coffee at what he had come to think of as his table, lost in his thoughts. Thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking, but he had to take them out and dust them off, if only to prod at the memory like a missing tooth. He had to tell himself that it hadn’t been good, he shouldn’t have done it, and that he should never do it again. 

When Cas asked him what he was thinking about so deeply, he answered before thinking about it. “Devon.” 

Cas quirked a brow and tilted his head, what he always did when he was confused or thinking. Dean fought was thankful he didn’t blush easily. “Just a guy I used to be friends with. It fell apart before I came here. Saw him over break. Kind of remembering why we aren’t friends anymore.” His body didn’t betray him, but his mouth did. He shouldn’t have said that. Now Cas would want to know why. 

“Why are you not friends anymore?” Right on cue. 

Dean looked at the table, a vision of tangled limbs imposing itself over the dark wooden table. “Uh.. Just saw some things differently.” 

“Oh.” 

“So, Cas, how did your break go?” Dean wanted the subject changed as quickly as possible. 

“Cas?” Castiel sat across from him, his head tilted again. 

“Uh.. Yeah. I was telling my brother about you and I realized Castiel is a bit of a mouthful.” He shifted uncomfortably. Now that he thought about it, it was odd that he had told Sammy about him. He didn’t tell him about any of the other friends he had made, just said that he had made friends. Must have been because Cas had tutored him, so deserved a little more recognition. 

“I guess it is. My break went quite well, thank you. John and I went to see my parents for the first week, then his after that.”  
Dean’s stomach had apparently gotten very weak over the break, because today the coffee was really tearing up his stomach. “John’s your boyfriend, right?” Dean was perfectly fine with people being gay, as long as it had absolutely nothing to do with him. 

Cas smiled, and Dean noticed that his eyes brightened. “Yes. This was the first time we had met each other’s families.” 

Dean excused himself because he suddenly felt rather sick.

*

At the end of January, John was pulling Cas to a party. It was thrown by - Creager? Kramer? Crowley – that was it. He was a man that was in John’s Theology class. He was slightly older than the usual college crowd, at least on this campus. Twenty five, compared to Castiel’s twenty three. John was twenty two, and quite happy to be invited to a party like the ones that Crowley threw. 

Castiel found himself in the living room of a rather posh house, his tan trench coat covering his blue jeans and button up pale blue shirt. He had been abandoned after John got drawn into a discussion on Greek gods with most of his theology class. For someone with such a religious name, Castiel did not enjoy discussing it. 

He had a red solo cup in his hand, which seemed to contain nothing but a splash of coke in his vodka. He did not mind, his alcohol tolerance was quite high. What he minded was that he did not know anyone at this party. His group of friends tended to prefer smaller gatherings with wine, not hard liquor at hundred patron parties. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye brought his attention to Dean. He also had a red cup in his hand, but the other was pressed over his heart. 

*

Dean pressed his hand to his heart and forced his face into a mock surprised look. “Sweet Jesus, is that Cas out of black and green?” He had to be friendly, because Cas had already seen him. He had been looking for someone to talk to, but this was exactly what he did not want when there was alcohol in his system. 

Cas smiled and walked closer. 

Damn, Dean thought. 

A part of him had been trying to tell him how bad of an idea it was that he still hang out with Cas. It was the part that was obsessed with self-preservation. Dean knew that he could not handle the slide into self-hatred he had already taken and only just recovered from. That part of him was calling him all kinds of stupid as his face betrayed him by breaking into a smile. 

“I thought this party was mostly for theology students.” Cas tilted his head, curious. 

Stop, Dean, back away. Leave now.

He ignored the survival instinct, because Cas was a bright purple light and the rest of Dean seemed to be a moth, moving toward the bug fryer with no resistance. “Yeah, but my roommate is a theology major.” 

It had taken only one afternoon for Dean to understand that it was most definitely not indigestion from coffee when he was at the coffee shop. For the first time ever, Dean had been walking to a class and passed by Cas on his way. He had been out of the coffee shop, had had no coffee at all. And his stomach had tightened and tingled.   
Dean wasn’t stupid, he knew what it meant. It meant he was attracted to Cas, the same as he had been to Devon. Devon had been an awful idea, and Dean knew that Cas would be even worse. He could blame curiosity and drunkenness for Devon, but fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. Dean wanted to put that behind him and ignore it. 

Besides, his dad could never, ever find out. 

The silence between them had gone unnoticed by Dean while he was lost in his thoughts. He cleared his throat and swallowed the last of his rum and coke, which was mostly rum. “Well, lots of homework. Better get going.”

Cas followed him to the door. “I’ll walk with you.” He had pulled out his phone, and Dean could only assume he was texting John to tell him where he was going. 

“Uh.. You.. You don’t have to.” Dean was really not happy with this. More time alone with him was exactly what he was avoiding. He didn’t have homework. He was in automotive! He had to fix a car this semester, that’s it! 

“No, but this is not my type of –“ He gestured around the place and finished “thing.” 

*

Dean seemed uncomfortable as they walked back to campus, but gradually calmed as they talked about his little brother. “Sammy’s special. He wants to be a lawyer when he gets to college, you know? I have a hard time seeing it, though.” 

“Why is that? You have told me he is quite intelligent.” Cas was honestly interested. 

“Because lawyers are slimy and they’re jerks. Sam’s sweet and really accepting.” He seemed to close off a bit after that. Cas thought nothing of it, until he spoke again. “He’s way more accepting than my dad. And me, for that matter.” 

Now what is that supposed to mean? 

He was obviously uncomfortable, so Cas changed the subject. “I have heard you have been seen with quite a number of girls. Are you enjoying the college experience?”  
Dean widened his eyes and then let out a shaky laugh. “Uh.. Yup.” 

Cas chuckled. “For being so…” He trailed off, not knowing if he should say what he had been thinking. 

“Slutty?” Dean supplied.

“Promiscuous. You seem to be embarrassed easily.” Cas finished with another glance. He had to force himself to think of John when he noticed how bright Dean’s green eyes looked as they passed streetlights. 

“I’m not embarrassed. I just don’t kiss and tell. Ever.” He looked down, looking very far away.

* 

Dean was really unhappy with the way this conversation was going. Why did this walk seem so much farther now than it did when he walked here? They were barely halfway back to the dorms. 

His hands were a little sweaty in his leather jacket pockets, so he took them out, hoping the cold January air would cool them off. They walked in silence until Dean felt like electricity had jolted up his arm. His hand had brushed Cas’s. “Sorry!” It probably sounded stronger than it had to, but Dean felt his heart pick up the pace a bit. 

Cas chuckled and it seemed to keep picking up the pace. He found himself glancing over at the other man. His legs felt a little shaky, and he had that stupid feeling in his stomach again. He kept praying that they were closer than he thought to the dorms, because he needed space before he did something stupid. 

“You do not need to apologize. I know that you have no designs on me.” 

“How do you know?” Dean almost cussed out loud after that little gem popped out of his mouth. 

He walked a few more steps before he saw that Cas had stopped. He was looking at him oddly, and suddenly Dean felt adrenaline pumping through his system.   
There were about three steps between Cas and him. He counted them fifty times in what felt like a millisecond. He swallowed and then took them all. His survival instincts had given up completely, throwing their hands in the air over this stupid man who insisted on destroying himself. 

Cas’s lips were just as soft as he had found himself dreaming. They were unmoving beneath him for a second, until Dean brushed his tongue across the crease they made, putting his hands on Cas’s hips. Then, Cas kissed him back, a core of passion showing itself as he put his hands in Deans hair and pulled. 

Stubble brushed his chin and Dean pulled back, his survival instincts back in full force. He breathed deeply, shakily, and tried to ignore that his body felt like it was on fire. “I’m sorry.” He took a few backward steps and half turned. “I’m so sorry.” 

*


	2. Chapter 2

He ran away. Dean ran from him, like a demon was chasing him. Cas took a second to stand there, breathing heavily. Part of him was turned on, wanting Dean to come back and finish what he started. The other was nauseous. What had he done? He had John, he should have stopped that kiss, not deepened it. 

Cas’s hands were shaking. He walked as quickly as he could back to his dorm. He had to deal with this situation now. There was no way that he could stay with John, knowing that another man had elicited such a response from him. It was not fair to himself, and it certainly was not fair to John. 

* 

Dean refused to go to Joe’s after that night. Three weeks passed and he slept with any woman that would have him, any night he could get it. He needed to prove to himself that he did not want Cas, even though he dreamed about the man and woke up painfully aware that his body approved. 

The hatred started as soon as he overheard his roommate talking about the scandal. John was apparently heartbroken, after Castiel had suddenly ended their year long relationship. When he asked when it had happened, his survival instincts telling him he wanted to know nothing, and part of him that still cared, deeply, telling him it was his fault. 

“The week after Crowley’s party. Almost three weeks ago?” 

Dean had taken a shower and scrubbed too hard, with the water too hot. He bought a razor blade and did not use it on art supplies, as the instructions said. He also was not sure to cut away from himself, as the warning read. New marks bled over skin already riddled with old wounds. He took to never wearing a beater as he had before. That part of him that was too much like his father told him that he could never be normal again. He hadn’t been drunk, he hadn’t been experimenting. He knew what it meant when he had done it. 

Alcohol, blood, and sex with strangers in dark rooms became the usual for him. He started slipping behind in his car project, and he couldn’t be bothered to care. He couldn’t fix himself, why should he be trying to fix anything else? 

His hung-over brain wasn’t very quick about two months after what he had dubbed ‘the incident’. He was walking back from class, not watching where he was going. He bumped into something and the smell of mint and coffee came to his nose. He breathed deep before he realized where it had come from. Dean pulled himself back and looked into blue eyes that were haunting his dreams and destroying his sanity. 

“Dean.” Castiel glanced at his face and then moved to go around him. 

“Wait.” Why did he say that? Dean, you’re too fucked up to do this. You’re just going to make it worse. Castiel stopped, though, his back still to Dean. “Why’d you do it? Leave John?” 

Castiel’s shoulders straightened and then he turned. Dean thought the conversation would be easier if he hadn’t done that. Hell, it’d be a shitload easier if he hadn’t asked the damn question. 

“It was unfair to be with him when I –“ He shook his head and then turned around. “It does not matter.”

“When you let me kiss you.” He said it darkly, but it was a nice memory. Or, it would be, if Dean could make it stop making him want to kill himself. 

“I kissed back.” 

Dean sighed, suddenly feeling frail and tired. “I know.”

Castiel was looking at him again, searching his face. It seemed he didn’t find what he was looking for because he sighed and disappeared toward his dorm. 

*

That was possibly the most painful experience to date, thought Castiel. Until he remembered how his stomach had clenched and how John had looked so betrayed when he had broken things off. There was something wrong with Dean, and it was a small comfort to see that he was obviously not doing well. The thought made Castiel feel small. 

There had been something haunted in Dean’s eyes when he had seen him. 

He could not let himself be so caught up in him, though. Obviously, it was going nowhere, whatever it happened to be. He should move on and find new things. Castiel would have done so if Dean had not shown up to Joe’s the next night, drunk, after close. 

Castiel did not know how to deal with the situation. He sat Dean down inside, at his table, and got him coffee. He would have to clean the station again, but honestly, he had nothing else to do tonight. He half hoped that Dean would pass out and spare him from this experience. 

No such luck. 

* 

Dean had gotten off the phone with his father. He was only in school because his father was paying for it, and had demanded updates from the school if he started slacking. The school had called him to say that he was not ‘performing satisfactorily’ and his dad had called him. A twenty minute conversation with nothing leaving his lips but yes, sir and no, sir. 

It was enough for him. 

He started drinking, the fifth of rum mostly gone by the time he came to the conclusion he wanted to be nothing like his father. The whole reason he was failing was because of his dad. If his dad weren’t such small-minded bigot, and had taught Dean that he was okay, Dean wouldn’t hate himself so much. He wouldn’t have hurt two men by his own self-hatred. 

By that time, he was drunk enough to think that it was a good idea to explain himself to Cas. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the address book twice before he realized he didn’t have the other man’s number. 

The clock read 10 and it was Friday, so Dean knew that Cas wouldn’t be leaving work until about 10:30. He stuffed himself into his leather jacket and stashed the last of his rum in his pocket. Then, he set off for Joe’s. 

When Cas actually allowed him in, he was surprised. He had planned on having to yell and basically throw a fit before he’d listen. 

* 

“Dean, what is that?” Cas was back in front of Dean with the light on. There were small spots of rust-brown on his white tank top. He would have ignored them, except they were placed awfully high to have come from fixing a car. And when Dean looked down, his shirt gaped, letting him know that they weren’t there by accident. 

He’d cut himself. 

Four parallel lines reached out of the top of the shirt, hidden except for one when he looked back up. 

A chuckle escaped Dean’s mouth, but it was an angry sound. 

“Kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

*

His roommate was spending the weekend at his girlfriend’s apartment, so he had been prowling alone in the dorm when his father called. He hadn’t thought to put a different shirt on before he left. So, of course, Cas was observant enough to notice what had happened.

He took a deep breath and then pulled the last of his rum out. There were about two swallows left. He tipped the bottle toward Cas, who looked him in the eye as he took them both. He blinked for a couple of seconds before handing the empty bottle back to him. “You don’t need any more to drink, Dean.” 

Dean frowned for a second before deciding he didn’t, actually. “Whatever. You wanna know why I’m here.” His words weren’t as slurred as he had thought they would be, which he supposed was a good thing. Cas nodded so he took another deep breath. “Devon and I aren’t friends.” 

The tilted head look of confusion made his stomach flip. Of course, he wouldn’t know what that had to do with anything. 

“Right after high school, we…” He looked out the window. It was dark, though, so all he saw was his reflection. His eyes were glassy and his jaw was clenched. His hands were convulsively gripping and un-gripping the empty bottle. “We liked each other. A lot. I was scared, but… We slept together. I didn’t think it was so bad until a few days later. My dad was screaming about them passing gay marriage in –“ 

“Marriage equality.” Cas interrupted. 

“Marriage equality, then. Somewhere, I don’t remember where. He said that it was an abomination. It was odd, because he isn’t particularly religious. And I knew, while he was ranting all around the house, pulling verses and curses out of thin air, I could never tell him. I could never let him know that there was something about me that wasn’t straight.”

Dean was lost in his thoughts for another couple of seconds until Cas cleared his throat. When Dean looked at him again, he spoke. “Something that isn’t straight?” 

Another sad chuckle came out, with an equally sad smile. “I’m not gay, Cas. But I’m not straight either. I stopped trying to figure it out after that.” 

“So you hate yourself like your father would?”

Damn. How’d he put it so good?

*

Cas thought through what he had said. It changed things, but not all for the better. “I appreciate you telling me these things. However, that does not mitigate the fact that you have behaved, as my brother would put it, like a great big bag of dicks.” 

Dean’s incredulous look was almost enough to make him laugh. Almost, but not quite. “The fact is that you still kissed me, destroying my relationship with John, and then you ignored me for two months. You confessing to issues with your father is not going to fix that. Frankly, I do not understand why you are here.” 

*

Dean felt as if his stomach had been punched. He had thought that if he explained things, then Cas would understand and not be angry anymore. That maybe he could teach Dean how to be okay, as he seemed to be. 

“I’m here because I need your help. I tried to run from you that night, even before kissing you.” He was getting angry. “Where do you get off acting like it’s all my fault? You were the one that spent time with me, you-“ Dean threw the bottle at the glass. It was plastic, and just made a hollow clap that only served to make him angrier. “You looked like you and were yourself. I never would have had this problem if it weren’t for you.” It wasn’t fair, but he pointed to his chest as he said it. 

He got up and walked to the door, storming out. He heard the door slam behind him. Cas was breathing heavy and holding the empty bottle in his hands. 

Cas angry was something he had never seen before. It would have been attractive if Dean didn’t feel like he was spiraling downward. The bottle slammed into his chest, pressing against his sore, abused flesh. “What is so special about me, Dean?” He kissed him, hard, hard enough for teeth to scrape lip and open the chapped skin on Dean’s lip. When Cas pulled away, Dean licked his lip, suddenly wanting it to continue. “I do not do mentally stunted. You want to be fixed? Fix yourself. Stop thinking as your father would. Father’s do not always know best.” 

He locked the door efficiently and then took off again, toward his apartment, away from Dean. 

Dean could have followed, but he stood and watched. 

*

Castiel angrily burst into his dorm and slammed the door behind him. He angrily ripped his clothes from his body and turned on the shower. As it heated, he brushed his teeth, getting the taste of rum and Dean off of his tongue and out of his mind. Finally he spit again, and looked at his reflection. The edges of the mirror were fogging but the center was still clear. 

Stepping back, he surveyed his body. It was lean, which was apparently attractive. But he did not think that he was anything fantastic to look at. What did Dean mean by him looking like himself? Castiel stared until the mirror was fogged, then got in the shower. He needed to scrub this experience from his body. 

*

Another month passed, Dean still avoiding Joe’s. He kept ignoring the need to put chapstick on, biting at his lip until it split again where Cas had opened it. 

He stopped picking women up. 

He didn’t buy more alcohol.

He threw away his razors. 

He pushed himself into longer hours with the car, fixing it the way he was supposed to. 

He was fixing himself. He thought of all the crappy things his dad had done over the years. His dad had drank too much, too often until Dean had been sixteen and threatened to take Sammy and never come back. He had been unresponsive after Dean’s mother had died. He and Sammy had needed raising, but he was not there to do it. Dean had done it until Bobby stepped up. Bobby had been at all the graduations and concerts and plays. He was the one who made John sign permission slips and medical forms. 

And Bobby was a hell of a lot more accepting than John had ever been. So who would he rather be like? The man that had taught him to hate himself? Or the man that had a lesbian step-daughter and had stood up in her wedding, crying freely? Dean had had to sneak into that wedding, because John wouldn’t let them go. 

He made up his mind. 

*

Castiel was in the middle of a rush, he and the other barista running around and making coffees as quickly as they could. A girl from his Mediterranean history class asked him for his number to set up a study group. He had not been aware that they had agreed to make one, but he had always enjoyed study groups. He passed her a napkin with the number on it while he handed her the caramel macchiato she had ordered. 

He thought nothing more of the encounter until he felt his phone buzz in his pocket at 5:01. He had been late to clock out, so he did so, pulling his phone out to see who could have texted him. 

“Do you do emotionally recovering?” 

The text he sent back was decidedly less positive. 

*

“Why should I?”

Dean felt his good humor at his own cleverness evaporate. “I deserve a chance.”

The next text came faster. “Technically, you already had one.”

He had no idea what to say to that. 

Instead, he started going back to Joe’s, even though Cas did not serve him unless he was the only barista, and then he wouldn’t talk. 

Dean was patient, though. As time went on, and April gave way to May, he started wearing his beaters again. He went to the shop, making sure that Cas could see him, and would take off his leather jacket. No more scars showed up, and once, he saw Cas smile at him. Dean smiled back and pulled out a book to read. 

He did this for a week, seeing that Cas would at least smile and say hello to him before he showed up on a Friday night. He stayed until close. Cas told him to leave when they were officially closed, but it was politely and said with a smile. Dean grabbed his book and his coat and then stepped outside. He didn’t go home, though. 

When Cas locked the door behind him, he moved into the light. “Hey, Cas.” 

Cas didn’t jump. “Why am I not surprised?” He turned and faced him with his head tilted in the way that Dean had come to love. “Come to convince me your father issues are gone?”

Dean looked down but he had a small smile on his face. “No, I’ll probably always have those.”

An appraising look was all he got for that comment.

A few moments of silence passed. Dean was watching Cas. He was so comfortable with himself that it was unbelievable to Dean. He smiled again and Cas finally broke. “Why are you here, then?” 

Dean stepped closer to him and kissed him. He moved slowly, because he was only here because he thought that Cas wanted him, too. If he didn’t, showed the slightest bit of unwillingness, Dean would leave and that would be the end of it. It might hurt, but he wouldn’t hurt Cas again if he could help it.

He kissed back, though. 

When the kiss ended, Cas leveled his incredibly blue eyes at Dean and raised his eyebrows. “Maybe.”

Dean laughed. “All that and I just get a maybe?”

Cas smiled and then started walking to his dorm. Dean drooped. He might be reading things wrong here. But Cas looked over his shoulder and tossed a few words back. “You’ll have to work for it.”

Dean jogged up to him, walking beside him and reveling in the electric feel of being near the Angel of Thursdays. “I can work.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
